As I stepped up on the first step of the front porch, the coppery stench of blood hit me like a wet blanket, causing bile to rise up in the back of my throat. I reached in my back pocket for my handkerchief to cover my nose. This wasn’t going to be easy. I walked through the front door into the hall of the small flat and saw the white legs of the body sticking out of the back room to my left. I walked forward, careful not to touch anything and when I reached the room, I saw the headless corpse, laying face up. Well, I guess you couldn’t say face up since the face and head was missing. But front side up with her arms and legs spread open wide. Harry was right; whoever this woman was she kept herself in good condition and had a body to kill for, which someone obviously had. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing to be seen. The room where the body was laying was obviously a woman’s bedroom. The curtains were white with ruffles. The bed was rumpled with the white satin sheets pulled off and laying on the floor at the head of the body, or where her head would have been. They were soaked in blood. It was obvious the lady bled out in this room. The lamp on the bed stand next to the bed was knocked on the floor casting an eerie pall over the room.
I moved around the body careful not to touch anything as I looked for anything on the floor that Harry might have missed. Bending down, I lifted up the duster around the box spring to see if there was anything under the bed. I saw a pair of black pumps and a lacy red bra and panties. Nothing else. Where’s her purse? What kinda lady doesn’t carry a purse? Eloise has more stuff in her purse than I have in my entire apartment. Women can’t survive without their purse. If the killer wanted to rob her, he would only take her cash and jewelry not the entire purse. And why take her head? Maybe they didn’t want her identified. Geez, this was really a weird one.”
The closet door was slightly open so I walked over and looked in. It was empty. That was strange. Not even a single coat hanger. Somebody must have cleaned this place out before they left or this lady was a visitor. I heard a noise behind me and jumped. I turned around, it was Harry.
“Aw Jesus Harry, you scared the livin’ shit outta me.”
“Yeah, well get over it Max. I want you out of here. I hear the sirens and the chief will be here any minute.”
“You notice there aren’t any clothes in the closet?”
“Yeah, strange, isn’t it? There’s a pair of shoes and bra and panties under the bed and that’s it. I’d say she didn’t live here. There isn’t much in the bathroom either; some men’s toiletries and a box of Tampons. Unusual combination, wouldn’t you say?”
So Harry did check under the bed. “Could be some guys fuck pad.”
“Yeah, we’ll check into that. Now get the fuck outta here before I lose my job.”
“Where do you suppose her purse is, Harry?”
“Good question. Before you go, here is another bit of information. This isn’t the first victim we found who had their head missing. A young lady named Kathyrn Reilly was found last week not far from here, killed in her own apartment.”
“How old was she, Harry?”
“Young, early twenties from what we can tell from what is left of her. Chief Meier will be informing the press about her later today. Now get outta here.”
I side stepped around the blood and walked out of the room down the hall toward the front door, looking into the kitchen and living room as I left. The place was sparsely furnished that’s for sure. Either the guy, if it was a guy, lived like me or he didn’t do much entertaining in this place; at least not outside the bedroom. There was no couch or end tables in the living room. The kitchen had a Formica table and four folding chairs. That was it. I walked in the kitchen and covered my hand with my handkerchief as I opened the refrigerator. It was empty except for a six pack of Blatz Beer. At least whoever lived here had good taste in beer. I’d have to ask Harry about what they found in the other bedroom in the back. That door was open but the light was out so I couldn’t see and I didn’t want to push my luck with Harry by snooping around anymore.
I received a nasty sneer and a dismissive shake of the head from Detective Williams as I walked down the steps.
“Get the hell outta here, Max. If you ever cost me my job, I’ll personally come looking for you and make you wish you never lived.”
“I love you too, EJ. Wanna join Harry and me at Rocco’s later? I’m buying.”
The look in her eyes convinced me she was serious as a heart attack, which I would prefer having than her beating on my head with the BB loaded sap attached to her belt.
I no sooner got to my car and opened my one good door when, the police chief’s car came roaring around the corner from South Kinnickinnic Avenue screeching to a halt about two feet from the rear of my Nash, scaring the crap out of me once again. I was going to have to change my shorts tonight before meeting Harry at Rocco’s. The driver’s door opened and a big Negro patrolman stepped out and walked around the car and opened the rear door. Before he got there, Hymie Gerlach, a big German, the chief’s main body guard, stepped out of the passenger side. He had red hair and was about six feet five inches tall and weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds. Hymie never smiled and was always looking around for something. Maybe he got word that someone wanted to take the chief out and they were willing to do it anywhere.
Chief Frank Meier stepped out onto the curb. He was about five foot eight inches tall, about two hundred pounds and about as ugly as one man could get. He was definitely overweight; well, pudgy would be a better description, and he had pasty white skin. He looked like he bathed in milk every day. . His eyes were set back in his face and he had a constant squint. One never lingered long looking at those eyes as you were immediately drawn to his hideously thick bright red lips.
They were out of proportion with the rest of his face and looked like he was constantly wearing lipstick. They looked rather cartoonish and he always had a half smoked cigar stuck between them. He was the city’s first Jew to serve as the Chief of Police. He went to the University of Wisconsin and then to Marquette University’s Law School. It looked like he was here for a parade as he was wearing his dress uniform with all his ribbons and medals hanging from his left chest. I guess he was planning on holding a press conference soon. Meier was a good old boy who had been around since the mid thirties and it has been rumored that he was responsible for letting the Chicago mob get a foothold into the Milwaukee economy. It was also rumored that he was preparing to make a run for the mayor’s office.
He sure lived a lavish lifestyle for a public servant. He had a house in Shorewood, a wealthy Jewish community, about a block from the shore of Lake Michigan. He had just dumped his wife of thirty years for a beautiful young lady who danced down at Spencer’s Lounge, located along the banks of the Menomonie River on the northeast side of the city. I was surprised that I didn’t see her exit the chief’s car after him as she usually stuck to him like glue. Instead, it was his chief of staff, Bob Chimilewski, a little blond Polish guy whose face was covered with pimples that were red from him constantly picking on them. Meier kept him around to garner the Polish vote on the Southside. With this little crew, it looked like Meier had the Jews, Pollacks, Krauts and Negros all covered for his run for mayor.
Chimilewski walked up to me and I could see blood oozing out of a freshly picked pustule and he said: “What are you doing here Max? I didn’t know you were still chasing sirens.
Aren’t you working for that Wop Marcello?”
“Yeah, but I also cover the city for the Daily Citizen.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. Hey, why don’t you stick around? The Chief will be releasing a statement to the press in a few minutes.” Chimilewski replied.
“Is that why he is wearing all those medals? Thanks, but I think I’ll catch it on the ten o’clock news.”
I didn’t want to tell him that I probably knew more about this murder than the chief did.
“You better be careful how you talk, Max. Your mouth is going to get you in some serious trouble one of these days.”
“Why, what’d I do, Ski?”
“You have always been a loser, Max. I enjoy watching your career going down the toilet. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
“I appreciate your concern, Ski, it’s nice having friends in high places. Give Frank my best.”
“I’ll do that, Max; just watch your back and your mouth.”
“Are you threatening me Ski?”
“Wouldn’t do that to you Max. If anything happened to you, I would be devastated. Then I’d have to read comic books to get my laughs for the day.”
“You’d have to learn how to read first, Ski.”
“What did you say punk?” I ignored him.
“I feel better knowing I’m loved. Keep it in your pants, Ski,” I replied.
I flipped him off. It didn’t have the same effect that being flipped off by Detective Williams did but it made me feel good. I’ll have to work on that.
“Smart ass!” With that, Chimilewski left to join the chief and the rest of his entourage as two black and whites pulled up blocking access to the front of the house.
I got in my Nash and fired the beast up.
As I was driving out, I passed the coroner’s wagon as it was pulling onto the street when it hit me that the person laying dead on the floor was somebody’s little girl. She had dreams and aspirations like everyone else and now she was mutilated and part of her body was missing. Why? What could she have done that would cause someone to brutalize her like that? And what about that other lady, Kathyrn Reilly? There are some real sickos in this world, no doubt about it.